


Down in New Orleans

by FrankenSpine



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, F/F, F/M, Jazz - Freeform, Multi, Murder, New Orleans, Romance, reupload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 12:23:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20135398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankenSpine/pseuds/FrankenSpine
Summary: Emma Swan dreams of becoming a famous jazz musician so she moves to her dream home in New Orleans. One night, while practicing her trumpet, she hears the old piano downstairs start to play on its own, and she realizes that she's not as alone as she initially believed.*Re-upload.*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I took this down in the heat of the moment when I was in a bad mental state but I am putting it back up.

Emma had finally done it. At long last, she’d saved up enough money to buy her dream home, a beautiful Victorian home in the heart of New Orleans. For one reason or another, the previous owner had taken everything but the old piano in the foyer, though Emma certainly wasn’t complaining. It was a dusty old thing, but it was an antique, and she couldn’t bear to part with it. All her furniture had already been moved in, and now, she would be spending her first night there.

She went up to her new bedroom to practice her trumpet. Aside from her love for this old house, the reason she’d moved here was so that she could be in a jazz band with her friends Jefferson, August, and Neal.

She had her case laid out on the foot of the bed. She opened it up, retrieved the notes Jefferson had given her, and picked up the polished instrument. She eyed the notes as she began to play. They were going to be covering Frank Sinatra four days from now at the _Rollin’ Bayou,_ per request of Jefferson’s friend, Sabine.

Not even a minute into her practice session, Emma swore she heard someone playing the piano downstairs. It sounded perfectly in tune with her trumpet. Bewildered, she paused suddenly and tried to listen, but as she stopped playing, so did the piano. She just shrugged it off and continued playing. It happened again. She rushed out of her room, trumpet in hand, and hurried down the steps to see who was playing the piano.

No one was there.

Emma just stared at the piano for a moment, then at her trumpet, and then back again. She scratched her head awkwardly. Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in her head. She brought the trumpet to her lips and continued to play, going off of memory alone.

As she played, she couldn’t help but to watch in wonder as the piano began to play on its own, and the manor was filled with the beautiful sounds of jazz. She finished the song, and as she did, so, too, did the unseen pianist. Had the situation been any different, she might have been frightened, but she was more fascinated than anything else.

She couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you for your music, whoever you are,” she said, “I really appreciate it. My friends and I are in a jazz band. I’m sure they’d love to hear you play.”

When she got ready for bed that night, Emma had to wonder if she was just imagining things. She shook her head. No. This was too real— too vivid— to be a hallucination. She just couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t a player piano. It wasn’t supposed to play by itself.

While taking a shower, more so to relieve stress than to actually get clean, Emma couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone. She felt like someone was watching her. The warm water streaming down her back began to feel like gentle fingers and plush lips along the back of her neck. An accidental moan escaped her, causing her to gasp in surprise and jump a little. The sensation of fingers and lips vanished the second she opened her eyes, and she was left feeling alone once more.

After a little while, she slipped into a loose t-shirt and some sweatpants and climbed into bed in her new room. Before she knew it, her eyes were closed and she was drifting off to sleep. She failed to notice the sad, brown eyes that watched her from the shadowy corner of the room, or the woman they belonged to.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma opened the door and found her bandmates standing on the porch. She smiled brightly at them.

“Hey guys,” she greeted, “Come on in.”

Jefferson stepped inside first, marveling over the décor. What really caught his eye, however, was the old piano resting against the wall. He smiled when he saw it.

“That _is_ a nice piano,” he said, “It really ties the room together.” He turned to Emma with a look of intrigue. “So it really plays by itself?”

“Yeah, I’m telling you, it starts playing whenever I play my trumpet. Wanna see?”

“I’d love to,” said Jefferson.

The others nodded in agreement. “Yeah, let’s see,” they said in unison.

“Okay, hang on.”

Emma went to the table in the living room and retrieved her trumpet. She began playing _Fly Me to the Moon,_ just as she had the night before, and lo and behold, the piano began to play on its own. The others looked on in sheer wonder. Jefferson was especially impressed.

“So, do you know who owned this place before you?”

Emma stopped playing, and so did the piano. “Nope. No one’s lived in this place since the seventies. The family’s been taking care of it all this time, but I guess they just decided it wasn’t worth it anymore.”

“Maybe you should do some digging,” said Jefferson, “Scratch that. We should all look into this. That way we can find who all lived here throughout the years, and if anyone died in the house.”

“You think the house is haunted?” asked Neal, “What if it’s just the piano?”

“You think it’s Sinatra’s ghost?” August joked.

Neal laughed. “Yeah. I bet that’s why he likes playing along.”

“Or maybe it’s just someone who likes his music,” said Emma, “I don’t think Frank Sinatra ever lived in New Orleans. He definitely didn’t die here.”

“Good point,” said Neal, “but wouldn’t that be cool?”

“Yeah,” Emma relented, “Yeah, it would.”

“Hey, what if it’s Louis Armstrong?” asked August.

Emma shook her head. “No way. He died in New York.”

“Well, damn,” said August, “Okay, now I need to know who all lived here. I won’t be able to sleep at night until I do.”

Emma laughed. “Alright, gang, let’s solve a mystery.”

While Jefferson did some online research regarding the house’s history, Neal and August watched in wonder as Emma played alongside the invisible pianist. They were engaged in a duet, both playing _Somewhere Over the Rainbow._

Emma paused, only for a moment. “Hey, you guys should join in.” She then continued, and her unseen guest followed suit.

Neal retrieved his bass and August got out his trombone, and considering they were playing in tune with a possible ghost, they were engaged in a rather lively session. Soon, the song was over.

“You know, you’d think haunted houses would be really scary and stuff, but I’m actually loving this,” said Neal.

August nodded in agreement. “Yeah, this is awesome. It’s nice working with you, Mr. Ghost.”

“Hey, don’t assume shit,” said Neal, “It could be a _Mrs._ Ghost.”

August just laughed. “Right. Sorry, whoever you are.”

“Or maybe you’re both wrong,” said Emma, “Maybe it’s just _Miss.” _

_“Actually, Neal is right.”_ It was Jefferson.

The trio looked to see him approaching with Emma’s laptop.

“You find something, Jeff?” asked Emma.

“I sure did,” said Jefferson, “This house once belonged to the Mills family. More importantly, it was owned by Mrs. Regina Mills. She was married to a sailor named Daniel Colter, but she kept her maiden name. Kind of odd, considering the time period, but I suppose she just wanted to maintain her family name. The Mills’ were a very wealthy bunch. Probably had something to do with Mrs. Mills’ success as a jazz pianist.”

“So what happened to her?” asked Neal.

Jefferson hesitated. “She was murdered.”

Emma gasped. “What? When?”

“1943,” said Jefferson.

“By who?”

“No one knows for sure. Apparently her husband was a suspect at one time, but he was quickly dropped from the list.”

“Was anyone else a suspect?”

“Some self-proclaimed ‘witch doctor’ named Baron Samdi.”

“Samdi?” asked Neal, “I know that name. I’m pretty sure he owns some holdings company over in Carrollton.”

Emma was taken aback by this. “And he’s still alive?”

“I think so,” said Neal, “If not, then maybe it’s his son that runs the place.”

Emma looked to the piano. “Is this Regina Mills I’m speaking to? Press one key for ‘yes,’ and two for ‘no.’”

The group watched in anticipation, wondering if and when the woman’s spirit would respond. No keys were pressed. Mildly disappointed, the four of them dropped the subject and chose to just continue practicing as usual. Emma thought this would draw the ghost out again, but sadly, she was mistaken.

It was about three hours before the group left, bidding both Emma and the spirit of Mrs. Mills farewell. Emma, of course, said her goodbyes, but the ghost of the pianist was completely silent. After her friends drove off, Emma went back upstairs to put away her trumpet and began unpacking the rest of her things, mostly clothes, shoes, and a few old photo albums. She hung up her clothes and organized her shoes upon the shelves within the closet, then she put the albums in the bottom drawer of her dresser.

She then headed back downstairs to fetch her computer and do some more research about her ghoulish guest while she enjoyed a nice ham sandwich, a cookie, and chocolate milk. She froze when she heard someone laughing softly. It was too quiet to tell where the sound had come from, but it startled her, nonetheless.

“Hello? Regina?”

There was a pause, but then a soft voice responded in a mild Creole accent. _“Yes, darlin’?” _

Emma turned quickly, not knowing what she might find when she did, but to her bewilderment, no one was there. So she turned back around and continued her meal.

_“You eat like a child.” _

Emma’s head shot up, but again, she saw no one. She did, however, hear an exasperated sigh, and heavy footsteps marching up the stairs. She rushed out of the kitchen just in time to catch a glimpse of someone going up, but the wall constricted her view, so she hurried to try and get a better look, but the figure was gone.

“Mrs. Mills?” she called. No answer. _“Regina?_ Can I call you that?”

Again, no answer.

She slumped her shoulders in defeat and went back into the kitchen with a sigh. Just like the previous night, she failed to notice the eyes watching her from afar.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma drove down to the _Rollin’ Bayou_ to meet up with Jefferson and the others for that night’s show. Sabine’s fiancé, Drew, had offered to play saxophone for them, and some of his friends would be playing alongside them as well, seeing how they needed more members. They’d been trying to find new bandmates for a while, but no one seemed all that interested. Drew was most likely just doing it for Sabine, though to his credit, he was excellent when it came to the saxophone.

They all practiced for a few hours before the show, and Sabine was loving it. She’d always been an avid fan of Frank Sinatra, so having Jefferson’s band cover his most-famous songs was a must. Sabine was proud of how far she’d come. Less than a year ago, she had transformed her food-truck business into a permanent residence here in New Orleans. Of course, she still drove the truck around on occasion, but there was nothing like having her own establishment with a stage to entertain her patrons.

Finally, the time came for the _Moonlight Blues_ to play live alongside Drew and his friends Gaston, LeFou, and Clopin. Their Sinatra covers were a big hit with the audience. They started out with _Fly Me to the Moon_ and finished with _New York, New York,_ and by the end of the night, Jefferson knew that he wanted Drew and the others to join the band permanently. The only thing missing was a piano player. This gave Jefferson an idea.

After the restaurant closed for the night, and the band was putting away their instruments, Jefferson approached Emma with a gleam of hope in his eyes.

“Hey, Emma, can we talk for a second?”

“Sure thing. What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you could find out if the house itself is haunted, or if it’s just the piano.”

Emma was quiet for a moment. “Why?”

“Because if it’s just the piano, then maybe Mrs. Mills would like to play for us next time. We can haul the piano around with us to all our shows.”

Emma frowned a bit. “I don’t think she would like that.”

“Have you spoken to her?”

“No, and she hasn’t played the piano since you guys were at the house the other day. I think all that talk about her death really pissed her off.”

“Understandable,” said Jefferson, “Well, will you tell her we’re sorry?”

“I’ve already tried that. It didn’t work.”

“Damn. Okay, how about I come over tomorrow and apologize to her myself?”

“I guess that could work,” said Emma, “or maybe you should all come.”

“Good point. Alright, I’ll tell them. See you tomorrow?”

Emma smiled. “Yeah, just stop by in the morning. Any time is fine.”

Jefferson nodded. “Okay. See you around, then.”

“You, too.”

Emma climbed into her yellow Volkswagen and drove back to her new house, parking in the small detached garage. She then headed inside quickly as she felt it begin to rain. She hurried through the front door, swiftly locking it behind her, and made her way up the stairs. She froze halfway up when she thought she saw someone standing in the entrance to the living room, but she turned to look, and there was no one there. She just shook her head and continued her way up to her room.

She loosened her black tie and undid the buttons on her white shirt, revealing a white sports bra and a smooth, taut stomach. Tossing them on the bed, she was left standing there in a pair of black slacks and matching dress shoes. She turned on a lamp, pulled back the covers, and sang quietly under her breath.

_“Out of the tree of life, I just picked me a plum. You came along and everything started to hum. Still, it’s a real good bet, the best is yet to come. The best is yet to come, and babe, won’t that be fine? You think you’ve seen the sun, but you ain’t seen it shine—” _

Emma froze. Downstairs, she could hear— ever so faintly— the sound of piano keys. She hurried down to see if she could catch a glimpse of her haunting housemate. She caught more than just a glimpse. Ever so much more.

There, sitting at the piano, was a beautiful brunette with bobbed, curly hair and a long, black dress with short sleeves. In her hair was a lovely gardenia, which brought Billie Holiday to the forefront of Emma’s mind.

The woman was clearly there, but her body was semi-transparent. She radiated a faint white glow. Her deep brown eyes locked with Emma’s and her painted, ruby lips curled into a sweet smile.

_“Ain’t you gonna keep singin’, honey?”_ she asked in that delightful accent of hers.

Emma could only gape at her in shock. “I— I, um—”

The brunette just laughed softly and turned back to the piano, playing flawlessly. Then she began to sing, picking up where Emma had left off.

_“Wait till the warm-up’s underway. Wait till our lips have met, and wait till you’ve seen that sunshine day. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet! The best is yet to come, and babe, won’t that be fine? The best is yet to come, come the day you’re mine. Come the day you’re mine. I’m gonna teach you to fly. We’ve only tasted the wine. We’re gonna drain that cup dry.” _

Once more, she locked eyes with Emma, never once slipping up on the piano.

_“Wait till your charms are right for these arms to surround. You think you’ve flown before, but baby, you ain’t left the ground. Wait till you’re locked in my embrace. Wait till I draw you near. Wait till you see that sunshine place. Ain’t nothin’ like it here! The best is yet to come, and babe, won’t it be fine? The best is yet to come, come the day you’re mine. Come the day you’re mine— and you’re gonna be mine.”_

She smiled even wider, flashing her perfect teeth, and gave Emma a suggestive wink. She continued to play on the keys, but it was no longer a real song. It was just random taps on the keys. She seemed mesmerized by it, nonetheless.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” she asked softly. Her smile no longer reached her eyes. She seemed saddened.

Emma finally found her voice. “Yes, um, are you Regina Mills?”

The brunette stood up and gave a bow, as if onstage receiving an encore. “The one and only,” she said, “You like my singin’?”

“Yes, it’s very nice,” said Emma, “Why are you just now showing yourself to me?”

“You talk funny,” Regina said, completely ignoring the question, “Where’re ya from, gorgeous?”

Emma felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Uh, Tallahassee.”

“Florida, huh? Nice place. Just not as nice as New Orleans.” Regina was quiet for a moment, studying her perfectly-manicured nails as though they were the most interesting things in the world. “I tell ya, that trumpet-playin’ of yours is really somethin’.”

“Really? Wow. Thanks,” Emma said, visibly taken aback.

Again, Regina winked at the blonde and smiled brightly. “My pleasure,” she said,_ “Chérie.” _

“Why did you stop playing the other day?” asked Emma. Suddenly, the brunette turned away, hugging herself tightly. “I didn’t like what y’all had to say.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. We were just trying to figure out who might’ve been playing the piano,” Emma told her, “Will you tell me a little about yourself?”

“What d’ya wanna know?”

“Whatever you’re willing to tell me. Like, what made you want to play the piano?”

Regina turned to face Emma yet again. “Honey, I was_ born_ to play,” she said, “Born to sing, too. Daddy always said it was a gift from God. Momma never liked what I did. She said it wasn’t ladylike to get up on a stage and entertain crowds of men. Never stopped to think that I was engagin’ in a different kind of _swing.” _

“Is that how you met Daniel?”

Regina sighed, but nodded. “Yes. Him and his buddies were out celebratin’ one night and came to watch one of my shows. Danny always said he fell in love with me the second he laid eyes on me. Or maybe it was when he heard me singin’.” She shook her head. “Lord, I can never remember. It’s been such a long time.”

Emma felt bad, so she changed the subject, hoping it would lighten the mood. “Well, why don’t I get my trumpet so we can play some more?”

Regina shook her head. “Another time, sugar. _Bonne nuit.”_


	4. Chapter 4

Emma groaned as she was awoken by her full bladder and reluctantly crawled out of bed, trudging to the adjacent bathroom. She flipped on the light and squinted as it overwhelmed her. She sighed as she relieved herself, rubbing her sensitive, tired eyes, and yawned. She nearly fell asleep again, but forced herself to stay awake long enough to make it back to bed.

She quickly washed her hands, drying them off on her sweatpants, and collapsed back onto her bed with yet another groan. She heard a soft chuckle and looked to find Regina sitting on the edge of the bed with an amused smile.

“Regina?” she mumbled, “What’re you doing in here?”

“I saw you were awake and came to check on you, _Chérie,”_ the spirit said in that charming southern accent of hers.

“Oh. Well, thank you,” said Emma.

For a moment, there was silence, but then Regina spoke up once more.

“You know, I never did get your name,” she said softly.

“It’s Emma. Emma Swan.”

“Such a pretty name for such a pretty young thing,” said the spirit.

Emma blinked in surprise. “Are— Are you flirting with me?”

Regina just smiled and shrugged. “Depends on how you look at it,” she said, “You know, you remind me a lot of my old friend, Mal.”

“Mal?”

“Maleficent,” Regina clarified, “Well, between you and me, we were a little more than friends.”

This was eye-opening for Emma. “While you were married?”

Regina turned away. “I ain’t proud of it. I never meant to hurt Danny,” she murmured, “I just couldn’t resist Mal’s charms. I ain’t perfect, Miss Swan. May I call you that?”

_“Emma_ is fine.”

The brunette nodded. “Alright then, _Emma.” _

“So, um, did your husband know?”

Regina sighed, nodding slowly as she hung her head in shame. “He did,” she said quietly, “Eventually.”

“I need to ask you something, Regina, and I’m sorry if it offends you.”

“You gonna ask me how I died?”

Emma could only nod.

Again, the brunette sighed. “I don’t know. Honest to God, I don’t. I try so hard to remember, but it’s all a blur. I think that maybe I’m not meant to know. Maybe that’s what ‘rest in peace’ means. You ain’t gotta worry about how ya died. Just gotta focus on the future.”

“Why are you here, and not on the other side?” asked Emma.

“As much as I’d love to go and be in Heaven, I’ve still got some unfinished business.”

“What kind of ‘unfinished business?’”

Regina gave a shrug. “Playin’ the piano, I suppose. I’m never happier than when I’m hittin’ those keys. They called me a canary, ya know, ‘cause I could sing. Danny always said I had the voice of an angel.”

Emma smiled faintly. “Well, he wasn’t wrong.”

The brunette returned the soft smile. “Thank you, darlin’.”

Emma was quiet for a moment. “Regina, I wanted to ask you if your spirit was attached to the house itself, or just the piano.”

“The piano, I think,” said the spirit, “but I can go anywhere in the house.”

“My friends and I were hoping you would like to play the piano for us at our next gig,” said Emma, “We would be honored.”

Regina was clearly reluctant. “I don’t know, sugar,” she said apprehensively, “It’s been so long since I left the house. Won’t folks be scared of me? I mean, with me bein’ a ghost and all?”

“They might think you’re just a hologram or something.”

Regina frowned. “A what, now?”

“A holo— never mind,” Emma said, shaking her head, “I doubt anyone will believe you’re a ghost, even if we tell them. They’ll probably just say we’re crazy.”

“Well, it’s better to be a loony than a liar,” said Regina.

Emma laughed quietly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

The brunette grinned. “Honey, I’m _always_ right.”

It was four hours later when Jefferson, August, and Neal showed up at the house. As they stepped onto the porch, they could hear a trumpet playing alongside the piano. They grinned at one another ecstatically.

“Looks like Emma made up with Mrs. Mills,” said Neal.

Jefferson rang the doorbell, and the music stopped, though only for a moment. Emma opened it and welcomed the three men inside.

“Come on in,” she said.

Her smile was as bright as the sun. She gestured to the piano, where a ghostly brunette in an old-fashioned dress was seated. The brunette turned, smiled at them, and offered a small wave.

“Guys, this is Regina,” said Emma, “Regina, this is Jefferson, August, and Neal.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you boys,” Regina said in her elegant southern drawl.

The three men smiled back at her. _“Hello, ma’am,”_ they said in unison.

“Emma here tells me y’all want me in your little band.”

“We would be honored to have you with us, Mrs. Mills,” said Jefferson.

“Please, call me Regina,” said the brunette, “and the honor is all mine.”


	5. Chapter 5

A week passed, and the Moonlight Blues were doing another show at the Rollin’ Bayou with Drew and his friends, who had yet to decide if they wanted to be full-time members. The band brought with them an old piano, which they carefully rolled up onto the stage.

“What’s with the piano?” asked Drew, “Why can’t you just use the one we’ve got here?”

Jefferson smiled. “Because this piano is special,” he said, “It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen.”

“Well, who’s gonna play it?”

“Regina,” said Jefferson.

“Who’s Regina?”

“Regina Mills,” Emma piped up, “She was a jazz pianist.”

“Was?”

“Well, _is,”_ Emma corrected.

“Where is she, then?” asked Clopin.

Emma smiled. “She’s already here.”

“I don’t see anyone else,” said Gaston.

“Watch this,” said Emma.

She brought her trumpet up to her lips and began to play _Come Fly With Me._ As she did, the piano began to play, seemingly on its own, which left Drew and his friends in awe. It seemed so real, but none of them were entirely sure.

“So it’s just a player piano, right?” asked Drew, “Big deal.”

Emma frowned. “No, I’m telling you, it’s Regina.”

“Emma, there’s nobody there.”

_“Now that’s where you’re wrong, sugar,”_ came a soft voice with a New Orleans drawl.

Drew and the others looked around, startled. “Who said that?” he asked, alarmed.

_“Over here.”_

They all looked over to the old piano, where a semi-transparent brunette was seated. She emitted an ethereal white glow. It wasn’t frightening so much as mesmerizing, and it was beautiful all the same.

“What is she?” asked Gaston, “Some kind of projection?”

“No,” said Jefferson, “She’s a ghost.”

“That’s impossible!”

“You’re seeing her, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, but— how are you doing this?” Gaston stammered, “I don’t see any projectors!”

“Because there aren’t any,” said Jefferson.

“If she’s real, then let’s see her play,” Drew challenged, folding his arms.

“Yeah,” said LeFou.

They looked at Regina expectantly. She just laughed and shook her head in amusement, turning back around towards the piano, and began to play _the Boogie Woogie._ They gaped at her in shock, entranced by the wonderful music she played.

“That’s— That’s _amazing,”_ said Drew.

“Wait,” said Clopin, “How do we know this isn’t just a projection _and_ a player piano?”

“He’s got a point,” Gaston agreed, “Can you prove to us that this isn’t just a ruse?”

“Darlin’, I’m as real as they come,” said Regina.

“If you think this was somehow pre-recorded, then explain to me why she’s responding to you accordingly,” Jefferson challenged.

The four men were stunned, unable to explain the bizarre phenomenon. Regina stood up from the piano and walked towards them. Her heels clicked along the floor despite her intangibility. She reached up and touched Drew’s shoulder. Her touch left behind a tingling sensation, but it was not unpleasant. In fact, it brought a smile to the young man’s face.

“She _is_ real,” he breathed.

Regina smiled brightly at him. “Sure am, handsome.”

Realization struck. “Then that means— you’re— you’re—”

“Dead? Afraid so.”

“How are you still here?” asked Drew.

“Somebody wants me here for a reason,” said Regina, “Just haven’t figured out why.”

“Can I ask how long you’ve, um…?”

“Been a ghost?”

Drew just nodded.

“Seventy-six years, sugar,” Regina told him, “Seventy-six _long_ years.”

“So, will you play with us?” asked Drew.

Regina grinned and winked. “Of course! These young’uns brought my piano all this way. I ain’t gonna let ‘em down.”

And she stayed true to her word.

That night, as the tables began to fill up, the Moonlight Blues and their new friends took to the stage. Jefferson stepped up to the mic with his guitar and peered out at the smiling audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “Tonight is a very special night. Tonight, we will be bringing a legend back from beyond the grave. Tonight, we bring you a wonderful pianist, who died over seventy years ago. Tonight, my friends, her spirit has returned, and she will play the piano. Give a round of applause for the lovely Regina Mills.”

He stepped aside, and the audience looked on in awe as a beautiful brunette began to materialize out of thin-air. She was smiling brightly at them as the spotlights shone down on her like the light of God. The curious, hushed whispers that filled the room made her smile even wider. She turned and went to her place at the piano, where she began to play _the_ _Boogie Woogie_ once more.

Many things happened that night. The Moonlight Blues gained five new members. It turned out journalists were there to document the events at the Rollin’ Bayou. The already-popular restaurant became even more famous, as did the band. The very next day, the positive reviews and praise began coming out in all the papers.

_Piano-Playing Phantom Joins Local Jazz Band. _

_Local Legend Returns from the Grave. _

_Haunting Beauty at the Bayou? _

Many skeptics came forward, of course, claiming the photos and the stories were all fake, but they were quickly proven wrong upon coming to the Rollin’ Bayou to see it for themselves. One man in particular, a local food critic and skeptic named Remy, tossed a rose onto the stage to see if it would go right through what he believed to be a hologram. He became flustered, not only when Regina caught the rose, but when she smiled at him and winked, which made the crowd laugh and cheer.

Before long, the story became known all throughout the state, and even in those surrounding it. Anyone who came to New Orleans had to go to the Rollin’ Bayou to enjoy the delicious food, and to catch a glimpse of the truly-lovely ghost of Regina Mills. The Moonlight Blues performed every other night now, and every other night, once they were finished, they would load the piano up and bring it back to Emma’s house.

Not wanting anyone to intrude on her property, Emma had a wrought-iron fence put up and installed numerous cameras around the house, both inside and out. Of course, she also changed out all the locks and would dust the piano each morning, for which Regina was extremely grateful.

One night, while lying in bed, just staring up at the ceiling, Emma felt a sudden dip in the bed and turned to find Regina lying next to her. They each smiled softly at one another as the moonlight flooded in through the window, washing over them.

“Regina?” Emma asked softly.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I— I think I love—” Emma suddenly choked up.

Regina arched an eyebrow at her. “What is it, sugar? Cat got your tongue?”

“I, um,” Emma paused, “I love having you around.”

Regina was quiet for a moment, but gave a small nod and a smile. “I love havin’ you around, too. It’s been so long since anyone lived here.” Sadness fell over her, and her smile faded. “You know, before you came along, I was so lonely,” she said softly, “You’re awful nice, you know that?”

“Yeah, well, I try.”

“Sometimes that’s all it takes,” said Regina.


	6. Chapter 6

It was the night of October 8th, and as Emma was helping Jefferson roll the piano up onto the stage, she saw Regina standing nearby with a look of sadness masking that beautiful face. The brunette hadn’t appeared all day, Jefferson noticed Emma staring and followed her gaze. He became equally-concerned.

“Hey, Regina, why the long face?” he asked.

Regina looked up in surprise, but then became sullen again and turned away. “It’s nothin’,” she said quietly.

Jefferson looked to Emma and gave a small nod as they set up the piano. Emma walked over to the ethereal woman and brought a hand to her shoulder. Regina met her gaze with a look of pain and sorrow.

“What’s the matter?” Emma asked, “And don’t tell me it’s nothing. I’ve never seen you this upset.”

Regina hesitated. “Tonight’s the night,” she whispered.

“The night?”

_“…The night I died.”_

Emma’s eyes widened. “What? I thought you said you couldn’t remember it.”

“Oh, I remember it, sugar,” said Regina, “I just don’t remember how it happened.”

Emma was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry. Do you still want to play tonight? I don’t want to make you do it if you’re not comfortable.”

“Honey, I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Regina told her with a sad smile, “I think playing will do me some good. It always does.”

“Are you sure?”

Regina just nodded. “Thanks for checkin’ on me, doll.”

Emma offered a faint smile. “Anytime.”

The Moonlight Blues played well that night, and of course Regina did, too, but there was an overwhelmingly-negative vibe radiating off of her in waves. It seemed to affect the audience, seeing how they weren’t applauding or cheering as much, which in turn made the band feel a bit down as well.

At the end of the night, when the restaurant was closed and the band was putting away their things, Gaston confronted Regina directly. He was not too happy, to say the least.

“What’s your deal? You really killed the mood, you know that?”

Regina hugged herself tightly. “Sorry,” she said quietly, “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” Gaston threatened.

Emma frowned, stepping between him and Regina. “Hey man, back off. It’s not her fault. She’s just feeling down, is all.”

“Yeah,” said Neal, “That’s no way to treat a lady.”

Gaston glared at him. “Stay out of this. This is between me and the ghost.”

“She has a name, you know,” Emma snapped.

“Oh, believe me, I’m _well-aware._ I have to see her name in all the papers. It’s always ‘Regina Mills’ this, ‘Regina Mills’ that, but never any of _our_ names! Well, I’m _sick of it!”_ shouted Gaston, “I want to see my name on the front page! I want people throwing roses at me! But that isn’t happening! Instead I have to compete for the spotlight with this— this _ghost!_ She’s not even alive! If you don’t get rid of her, then I quit!”

“Gaston, think about this,” said Drew.

Jefferson stepped up to Gaston with a look of spite. “Go ahead,” he challenged, “Quit. We’re not kicking Regina out. We need her.”

“You need me, too!” Gaston declared.

“You play the clarinet,” said Jefferson, “Lots of people can do that.”

Gaston’s fists tightened. “Well lots of people can play the piano!”

“Not the way she can.”

In a fit of rage, Gaston stormed off with his clarinet case in hand and made his way towards the exit.

“Gaston, wait!” shouted Drew, “Come on! Don’t be like this!”

“I told you, I quit! Find a new clarinet player if there are so many of them as you claim!”

“If Gaston quits, then so do I!” said LeFou, scurrying after the angry man.

Drew cursed under his breath and looked at Clopin. “Tell me you’re not quitting, too. You’re the only man I know who plays the French trombone.”

Clopin smiled. “I’m with you until the end, my friend,” he said in his thick French accent.

Drew patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks, man. Now we just need to find two new bandmates.”

“Don’t worry,” said Clopin, “I know someone who plays the violin.”

“And my cousin plays the clarinet,” said Jefferson.

“Yeah? Who’s your cousin?” asked Drew.

Jefferson smiled. “His name’s Killian,” he said, “Killian Jones.”


	7. Chapter 7

Killian Jones could play the clarinet and play it well, there was no doubt about that, but once he opened his mouth, Emma lost all respect for him. One night, after their first concert together, the group was sitting at the restaurant’s bar. Killian was the first one to get drunk, and unfortunately, he was quick to make a sad attempt to flirt with Emma. She was having none of it.

“What do you say you and I go back to my place, love?” he slurred.

“No thanks,” Emma said firmly, “I’ve got a place of my own.”

“Well I bet it’d be nice if I came over.”

“Please don’t.”

Emma took a slow sip of her whiskey and tried to ignore him, but he just kept on persisting.

“Oh come now,” said Killian, “I promise I can show you a good time.”

Suddenly, Regina piped up. “Honey, I believe she said she ain’t interested.”

Killian frowned a bit, downing the last of his drink. “And who are you? Her mother?”

“I’m her friend,” said Regina, “and I _sure_ don’t like how you’re talkin’ to her.”

“Hm. Why don’t the three of us go somewhere quieter, then? I imagine it’s quite nice, lying with a beautiful ghost.”

“Fuck off, Killian,” Emma snapped.

She got up quickly, paid for her drinks, and made her way to the van where Jefferson was sitting in the driver’s seat. Hooked up to the van was the trailer containing Regina’s piano. Jefferson smiled when he saw the two women approaching. Sitting in the front seat next to him was Esmerelda, a raven-haired woman with striking teal eyes and tan skin. She was the new violinist, and a friend of Clopin’s.

“Hey, you two,” said Jefferson, “What’s up?”

“Hate to say it, Jeff, but your cousin’s driving me up the wall,” said Emma.

“Sorry, Emma. He’s not the best at holding his liquor.”

Emma scoffed. “You’re telling me.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Jefferson promised, “Hopefully he’ll back off. You two need a ride?”

“That’d be great, thanks,” said Emma.

“Sure thing. Hop in.”

They did so, taking the middle row. In the very back, both passed out and snoring loudly, were August and Neal. Jefferson drove them home in relative silence. Esmerelda was the first to really speak up. “Well, what’d you think of my violin skills?”

Emma smiled. “You were amazing,” she said, “Especially compared to LeFou.”

Esmerelda laughed. “I would hope so.” She was quiet for a moment. “So, Regina, what’s it like to be a ghost?”

“It’s hard to explain. I just kinda hang around, haunting the place. I can’t eat, sleep, or use the ladies’ room, but I sure can play the piano.”

Esmerelda smiled. “Yes,” she said, “you certainly can. I envy you. I’d give anything to play the piano as well as you do, but I’ve always had a knack for violin.”

“And you do a wonderful job, sugar,” Regina told her, “I’m afraid I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t a little jealous myself.”

“It’s such an honor to meet you and work with you,” said Esmerelda.

Regina smiled. “Why thank you, darlin’.”

“Oh and you just have the most wonderful accent.”

“I like yours, too,” Regina said with a grin.

Emma remained silent while Regina and Esmerelda chatted back and forth, not saying anything until they arrived at her house. She and Jefferson unloaded the piano and Emma pushed it up the makeshift ramp that led onto the porch and into the house. Once inside, Emma locked the door and shut off the light before heading up to her room for the night. Regina followed after her in silence. It was only when they reached the bedroom that the brunette spoke up.

“Emma?”

“Hm?”

“Do you have feelings for Killian?”

Emma looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. “What? Eww, _no!” _

Regina chuckled softly. “Alright then.”

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Because,” said Regina, “I needed to make sure before I asked you if you had feelings for me.”

Emma just gaped at her.

“Well?” she asked, “Do you?”

“W-What makes you think that?”

Regina gave the blonde a knowing look. “Honey, I’ve seen the way you look at me. I’ve heard the way you talk to me, and about me. Plus, there was that time you almost told me you loved me. I need to hear you say it, Emma. Do ya love me?”

Emma was stunned. “I— um— I—”

“It’s alright, sugar. You can tell me.”

Emma cleared her throat. “I really like you, Regina,” she said, “like, _a lot.” _

“But?”

“But I just— I don’t know if we’re compatible. I mean, I’m alive, and you’re a ghost.”

Regina cupped her face. “We can still touch, sweetheart. Isn’t that enough?”

“Well it’s definitely a plus,” said Emma, “but I mean we come from two different worlds. I’m only in my twenties, Regina. You’re a ghost who died in the forties.”

“And is that any reason for us not to be together?”

“Others would say so.”

“Let’s not worry about what others think,” said Regina. She laced her fingers with Emma’s. “Mal and I never did.”

Emma hesitated. “Okay,” she said quietly, “We’ll give it a shot.”

Regina smiled widely. “Wonderful.”

She leaned in slowly and watched Emma’s eyes slip shut before pressing her lips to the blonde’s. The kiss was short and sweet, yet it seemed to last a lifetime. For Emma it was unexpected, but the sparks flew like fireworks in the night. For Regina, on the other hand, it opened the floodgates for a wave of memories. She gasped, stumbling back a bit.

Emma looked at her in confusion. “Regina? You okay?”

Regina clutched her head. “I— I remember,” she said, “Well, some of it, anyway.”

“What _do_ you remember?”

“Not much, really. Just what led up to it. I still can’t remember dyin’.”

_There she was, sitting in her dressing room following one of her shows, when there was a knock at the door. _

_“Mrs. Mills?” came the voice of her manager. _

_She looked up from the lit mirror, curious. “Yes?” _

_“You have a visitor.” _

_“Send ‘em in,” she said after a moment. _

_The door opened, and in walked a familiar blonde with long, curly hair and a million-dollar smile. She wore a white blouse, a black skirt down to her knees, and matching heels. She quietly closed the door behind her. _

_Regina was quick to return her smile. “Hello, Mal.” _

_The blonde strode over and planted a soft kiss on the corner of Regina’s lips. “It’s good to see you again, Regina,” she purred, “You were really something tonight. I was wondering if you’d like to come over for a glass of wine or two.” _

_Regina laughed softly. “‘One or two’ means somethin’ entirely different in your language, Mal,” she said, “but why not? I’d love to.” _

_Suddenly there was another knock at the door. “Mrs. Mills, your husband is here.” _

_Regina hesitated, looking to the blonde apologetically. “Come on in,” she said. _

_The door opened and in walked Daniel. “Regina, I— oh. Hello, Maleficent. I didn’t realize you were here.” _

_The blonde patted Regina’s shoulder. “I was just leaving,” she said, lighting a cigarette as she stepped out into the hallway. Regina’s manager shut the door once she did. _

_Regina looked at Daniel in the mirror and smiled. “Hello, darlin’.” _

_He was quick to return her smile, leaning down to kiss her. Guilt overcame Regina as his lips touched the place where Mal’s had, but she maintained the façade. _

_“You were wonderful tonight, you know that?” _

_Regina’s eyes gleamed with pride. “Thank you.” _

_“I’m gonna go out for drinks with Jack and Kristoff,” said Daniel. _

_Regina nodded. “Have fun,” she told him, “Try not to drink too much.”_

_ He chuckled. “I promise I won’t. Are you doing anything later?” _

_“Mal invited me over. Said she had to tell me somethin’.” _

_“Alright. I love you.” _

_“Love you, too, Danny.” _

_He kissed her once more, and when he was gone, Regina let out a heavy sigh. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a cigarette and rummaged through her bag for a lighter, but couldn’t find one. _

_“Damn it,” she muttered with the cigarette between her teeth. _

_Hearing someone clear their throat, she looked to the door and found Mal standing there with a smile and a lighter._

_ “Need a light?” _

_“Oh Mal, you’re a life-saver.” _

_The flame from Mal’s lighter flickered to life. Regina’s eyes were alight, just like the end of her cigarette. She gazed up at Mal as she took a drag, letting the hot smoke fill her lungs and escape from her painted lips. Then, seeing the desire in the blonde’s eyes, she smiled. _

_“Let’s get out of here,” she said softly. _

_“Sounds like a plan.” _

_The two women walked out of the dressing room, passing Regina’s manager in the hallway. The brunette smiled at him as she pulled the cigarette from her lips. _

_“Goodnight, Mr. Gold.” _

_The old man gave a tight smile and a curt nod. “Goodnight, Mrs. Mills.”_


	8. Chapter 8

Just as Jefferson and Esmerelda began pursuing a relationship, so did Emma and Regina. Emma might not have said it aloud, but she didn’t need to. It was quite obvious, given the lingering looks she and Regina would give each other both on and offstage. It was finally confirmed when Killian spotted them kissing backstage one night. He stormed off, grumbling bitterly under his breath. This caught the attention of Clopin.

“What is wrong, Monsieur?”

Killian grit his teeth. “She’s making out with that bloody ghost,” he hissed.

“Who? Emma?”

“Aye.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Of course not!” Killian snapped.

Clopin laughed. “It seems you are not being honest with me,” he said, “or yourself.”

Killian just muttered a quiet curse as he made his way out of the building. It was here that he was met by a dark-skinned man in a velvet suit with a cane.

“Killian Jones?”

“Aye. Who are you?”

“My name is Mr. Samdi,” said the man.

“You mean Baron Samdi?”

“The one and only.”

“What do you want? An autograph?”

“No, no,” said Samdi, “I want to help you.”

“Help me? With what?”

Samdi flashed a devious grin. “With your ghost problem, of course.”

Killian was visibly taken aback. “You can get rid of Regina?”

“Possibly,” said Samdi, “Why don’t you come with me to my shop? We can talk there.”

“Alright,” Killian said reluctantly.

“Excellent. It is just down the block.”

That same night, after Emma pushed the piano back into the house, she locked all the doors and checked the security feeds. There was nothing strange or out of place, so she headed upstairs with Regina in tow. Once she was in her room, she began changing, tossing her clothes onto the bed and going into the bathroom for a nightly shower. Regina was eager to join her. 

It was odd, seeing the water roll right off of the brunette without getting her wet, but Emma had little time to consider this as Regina’s lips were on her neck, kissing softly along her collar-bone. Emma let out a quiet groan as she leaned her head against the shower wall. Regina’s hands met her hips, holding them gently while kissing her bare shoulders.

“You sure are beautiful,” Regina murmured, “You know, being with you makes me feel more alive now than I ever did before.”

Emma stared at her in wonder. “You really mean that?”

Regina smiled. “Every word, darlin’.”

“God, I love all the little pet names you give me.”

Regina kissed the blonde on the lips ever so sweetly. “I’m glad,” she said, “‘cause I ain’t stoppin’ anytime soon.”

Emma brought her arms around Regina, pulling the brunette close as they continued to kiss. They took things slow at first, just kissing as the warm water came down on them from above. Soon, however, things became a bit more intense. Emma moaned against Regina’s lips as she felt the brunette’s fingers teasing her labia. 

“Please,” she rasped.

“Do you want this, Em-ma?” the brunette purred.

Emma groaned. “God, yes.”

Regina pushed her fingers inside, leaving Emma with a delicious feeling of desire along with a tingling sensation, which only made the experience that much greater. The spirit began pumping them into the beautiful blonde, earning a number of wanton moans and gasps of pleasure as she hit that sweet-spot again and again.

“Fuck, that feels amazing,” Emma breathed.

Regina just grinned. “I’ve been told I had magic fingers,” she said, “and not just when it comes to my piano.”

Emma grabbed the brunette’s wrist, desperately trying to hold it in place while she rocked her hips against the heel of Regina’s palm. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her mouth was agape as the spectral woman’s fingers stroked her in all the right places. What really spiked her adrenaline was the feeling of Regina’s thumb pressing into her clit.

“Fuck!” she cried.

“You like that?” Regina rasped.

Emma bit her lip, nodding quickly. 

This drew a soft chuckle from the brunette. “You gonna come for me, Emma?” she husked, “Hm?” 

The blonde was trembling and moaning uncontrollably. “I’m— I’m so close,” she whimpered, “So fucking close.”

The pace of Regina’s fingers increased and Emma was left a gasping, writhing mess against the shower wall. She went weak in the knees as she reached her climax, spilling her hot essence onto Regina’s fingers, and she would have fallen had the brunette not caught her in time. She panted heavily as she came down from her orgasmic high.

“That was incredible,” she breathed. 

“No, honey. You were incredible,” Regina told her.

“I want to return the favor,” said Emma.

Regina shook her head. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, sugar. I can’t take off this dress.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

They eventually climbed out of the shower and Emma wrung her hair out with a towel before slipping into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt as usual. They each crawled into bed and curled up together beneath the warm covers, just staring into each other’s eyes as if searching, though for what, they had no idea.

“Regina?” Emma asked after a while.

“Hm?”

“Why can’t you take off the dress?”

Regina hesitated for a moment. “Because I died in it,” she said quietly.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Regina shook her head. “It’s alright, Chérie,” she said, “You couldn’t have known.” She planted a soft kiss on Emma’s cheek. “But now you do.”

“Do you remember how it happened?” Emma asked her.

“Not yet,” said Regina, “but I think I’m startin’ to remember why.”

“Do you want to?”

“I did,” said the brunette, “but now that I have you, I’m not so sure.”

“What is it about me that made you change your mind?”

A somber smile graced Regina’s painted lips. “You remind me so much of Mal. She understood me like no one else did. Not even Danny. I loved them both dearly, don’t get me wrong, but there were things Mal did for me that he couldn’t. Then again, there were also things Danny did that Mal never could.”

“Can I ask how you got together? You and Mal, I mean?”

Regina hesitated. “She was a Navy nurse,” she said, “We met at a little get-together for sailors. She was there with one of Danny’s friends, Jack Branson, but she spent most of the night with me. We hit it off right away. Didn’t realize it was more than friendship until a little while later, but then she decided to leave the Navy so we could spend more time together. Danny was away for a while, and that was when I started sleepin’ with her. It was more than that, though. So much more.”

“Was that her real name? ‘Maleficent?’”

“No, that was just what most people called her,” said the brunette, “She liked it because she thought it sounded exotic. Her real name was Mallory Page. She never did like it when people called her that.”

“Was she married?”

“She was with Jack for a couple of years,” said Regina, “They had a daughter named Lily, but they were already in the middle of a divorce when Mal and I met. She went to the party with him that night to try and maintain a good image, but they split not long after. She got full-custody of Lily. Never remarried, at least not while I was alive.”

“Do you want to see if we can find her?”

“I’d say she’s already passed on, Chérie.”

“Probably, but we can still look for information about her.” 

Emma reached over onto her nightstand and picked up her laptop, sitting up in the bed and searching for Mallory Page in New Orleans.

“I’d have loved to have one of these,” said Regina, “It’s amazing, really, how much the world has changed. I bet Mal would’ve loved it, too.”

Emma scrolled through several pictures. “Any of these look familiar?”

Regina studied the screen carefully. “No.”

“Maybe I should add Maleficent.”

Emma did this, but again, Regina found no trace of her old flame. Emma then included the word obituary. That did it. 

“Mallory Page,” said Emma, “Born in 1906. Passed away in 1991, at the age of eighty-five.” She turned and found a look of sorrow on Regina’s face. Seeing this brought her immense guilt. “Oh Regina, I’m so sorry.” She quickly closed the computer, but Regina stopped her.

“No,” Regina said softly, “I’m glad you showed me. I just hope Mal’s up in Heaven. She wasn’t perfect by any means— hell, none of us were— but if anyone deserves to rest in peace, it’s her.” She looked at Emma with a sullen smile. “Can you look for Lily on that thing?”

Emma nodded. “I can try.”

She opened the computer back up and searched for Lily Page, as mentioned in Mal’s obituary. There was only one match. Lily Page, seventy-eight, born 1941. Emma pulled up a picture and Regina let out a quiet gasp.

“That’s her,” rasped the brunette.

“How can you be sure?” asked Emma.

“It’s gotta be,” said Regina, “She looks so much like Mal.”

“You think I should contact her?”

“Oh, I don’t know, what if she doesn’t want nothin’ to do with us?”

“Then that’s on her,” said Emma, “but if she does, that would be great, don’t you think?”

“Of course,” said Regina, “I’d love to find out about her, and what became of Mal.”

Emma smiled faintly, placing a hand atop the brunette’s. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Me too, sugar,” murmured the spirit, “Me too.”


	9. Chapter 9

As time passed, Regina began to remember more and more about the events leading up to her untimely death. It was just bits and pieces, but it was enough to figure out a pattern. She was having an affair with Mal. Daniel found out, and was understandably crushed, but he was more depressed than angry. 

Still, he and Regina stayed together, because despite what was happening, they were still very much in love. Regina knew Daniel couldn’t have been her killer. He would never lay so much as a finger on her, as she was his angel, and his love for her would never die. 

One day, while sitting with Emma in the parlor (they couldn’t exactly call it the living room), Regina had an epiphany. She stood up suddenly, startling her blonde companion, and let out a sharp gasp.

“Regina? What’s the matter?”

The brunette looked at Emma with sorrow masking her translucent face. “I think I finally figured it out,” she said.

“Figured what out?”

“How I died,” Regina said quietly.

“Oh,” said Emma, “You wanna talk about it?”

Regina offered a somber smile as she sat back down next to the blonde, taking Emma by the hands. “It couldn’t have been Danny,” she murmured.

“Then who?”

“I think it might’ve been my manager,” she said, “Mr. Gold.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “What?! Why?”

“I’m not sure, but I think it might’ve been because I was thinkin’ of quittin’ show-biz and just settling down,” Regina told her, “I told you, Emma, I wasn’t a perfect woman, but I knew how much I’d hurt Danny and I— I just couldn’t bear it. I wanted to do right by him.”

“Why would your manager want you dead? How would that help him in any way?”

“Now, I don’t know for certain if it was him,” said Regina, “but somethin’ just makes me think he was involved somehow.” She sighed. “Ya think you could find him on that fancy thingamajig?”

Emma chuckled softly. “My computer, you mean? Maybe,” she said, “but I can’t promise I’ll find anything. What was his name?”

“Robert Gold.”

As Emma got busy searching for the man’s name in Google, Regina peered curiously over her shoulder. 

“You hear back from Lily?” asked the brunette.

“Not yet,” said Emma, “I sent her a message last night, but I guess she just hasn’t seen it.” She scrolled through the image section. “Any of these look familiar?”

Regina scanned the screen carefully. “No,” she said, “Who knows if he’d even be on here? He never did like havin’ his picture taken. He preferred to stay in the shadows, almost like a phantom.”

“Sounds like this ‘Gold’ was a real creep.”

Regina laughed softly. “Well, that’s one word for him. Mr. Gold was a lot of things. I just can’t say for sure if he was a killer.”

Emma placed a hand onto Regina’s and offered a faint smile. “Well, whether he was or not, we’ll figure it out,” she said, “I promise.”

Regina squeezed her hand gently. “Thank you, Chérie.”

“You know I love it when you call me that.”

A smile graced Regina’s painted lips. “Which is exactly why I do it, sugar.” She kissed Emma softly on the cheek, making heat rise to the blonde’s face. 

“But you know what I love even more?” asked Emma.

Regina’s smile widened. “What might that be?”

“You,” Emma murmured as she pressed her lips to the brunette’s.

Regina hooked her arms around Emma’s neck as they both fell onto the couch, their lips locked in a searing kiss. “Darlin’, if we start, we won’t get back up for hours.”

Emma let out a quiet hum. “Yeah, that’s the plan.”

Regina laughed. “You’re incredible, Emma Swan, you know that?”

Emma grinned at her. “I do now.”

“You tryin’ to tell me my word is absolute?”

Emma chuckled. “Something like that.” She brought her lips to the brunette’s throat, earning a low moan of pleasure. Yes, she thought, this is definitely going to take a while.

Meanwhile, across town, Killian was sitting in the voodoo shop with Mr. Samdi. “So you really think getting rid of her ghost will get Emma to fall for me?”

“No,” said Samdi, “but I can cook up an elixir that will certainly do the trick.”

“What do I have to do? Put it in her drink?” asked Killian.

“Precisely,” the witch doctor said with a grin, “but you must be discreet. Make sure no one else is looking.”

“Right,” said Killian, “So, Mr. Samdi—”

“Please,” said Samdi, “Outside of this shop, I am Mr. Samdi, but in here, I am Doctor Facilier.”

“Alright, Doctor Facilier, how do you know so much about ghosts?”

Samdi’s grin only widened. “Because, Mr. Jones,” he said, “I’ve got friends on the other side.”


	10. Chapter 10

Killian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “This isn’t possible,” he said, “You should be old! Probably even _dead!_ But you don’t like a day over forty!”

Doctor Facilier chuckled. “Selling one’s soul_ does_ have its perks.”

“Y-You sold your soul? To who? The Devil?”

“Perhaps that’s what you call him,” said the Doctor, “but I like to call him my Guardian Angel. He has helped me more than you can possibly imagine.”

“I don’t think I want to,” said Killian.

Again, the Doctor laughed. “Suit yourself.” He tapped a finger against his cane. “Now then,” he said, “I do believe we were coming to an agreement. You will sever the spiritual tie between Regina Mills and that piano of hers, and in return, I will give you the elixir you need to make Emma Swan fall in love with you.”

“Is there a way to reverse it if anything goes wrong?”

“If you wish to undo it, for any reason,” said Facilier, “then you will have to come back and make another deal with me.”

“Alright,” said Killian, “How am I supposed to separate Regina from the piano?”

Facilier took off his hat and pulled out a pair of golden shears. “These are the Shears of Destiny,” he said, “You must come within five feet of Regina for her spiritual tie to become tangible, and when it does, you must cut it with the shears.”

Killian swallowed. “W-What happens after that?”

“The shears will return to me— through magic, of course— and Regina should finally cross over to the other side. Then you can give Emma Swan the elixir, though I must warn you, it tends to work a bit _too _well.”

“What? Never mind. I’ll take your magic scissors and cut the spirit link at the next show,” said Killian, “Just tell me one thing: why are you so keen about Regina being sent to the afterlife, anyway?”

“Because,” said Facilier, “I love her, and I’ve spent the past seventy-six years looking for a way to get her to cross over.”

“Well, why don’t you just cut the link yourself?”

“Going near a pure soul on Earth will weaken me, and I may end up dying,” said the Doctor, “and I don’t feel like dying. Not yet, anyway. That’s why I need you to help me, Killian Jones.”

“Okay,” said Killian, “I’ll do it.”

Facilier offered a catlike grin. “Excellent.”

* * *

Just two nights later, everything seemed to be going smoothly. The band was all there and their instruments were set up on the stage. As Regina picked at her piano a bit, Killian approached her with a forced smile.

“Hello, Regina.”

“Hello,” the brunette said with pursed lips, “What can I do for you, Mr. Jones?”

“Nothing at all,” said Killian, “I merely came to see how you were.”

“Just fine,” Regina said suspiciously, “Why don’t you go ‘n’ practice your clarinet?”

“Of course. Sorry to bother you.”

Killian just couldn’t understand it. Regina’s spiritual tie hadn’t appeared— or at least, it seemed that way until Killian turned to find a long, red ribbon tied around Regina’s wrist. The other end was attached to Emma’s. His eyes widened in realization. Regina’s soul wasn’t fixed to the piano, but to Emma. He glanced around nervously before bringing the golden shears up to the red ribbon and cutting it in two.

Suddenly, the sound of the piano ceased, and the ribbon faded quickly from existence. No one seemed to have noticed Killian tucking the shears back into his jacket’s inner-pocket. They did, however, notice that Regina was nowhere to be found.

“Hey, where’d Regina go?” asked Jefferson.

Emma frowned. “Regina?” There was no answer, so again, she called, _“Regina?”_ Still nothing. “Shit,” she muttered, “Where the hell could she have gone? It’s not like she could just up and leave. Her soul is attached to the piano. How are we supposed to do a show without her?”

Jefferson placed a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to put her at ease. “Don’t worry, Emma. We’ve done it without her before. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Emma sighed heavily. “God, I hope you’re right.”

* * *

Though they played well, the Moonlight Blues weren’t _nearly_ as good without Regina there alongside them. They’d ended up moving the old piano backstage, and after the show, they all went to the bar to have drinks.

Emma ordered gin, hoping to numb the pain and anguish she was feeling. She got up after a bit to use the ladies’ room, and as she did, she saw Killian walk past her with a strange expression, but she didn’t think much of it.

When she returned, she found the seat next to her empty, but she sat down and continued sipping her drink. Soon, Clopin came back and sat down beside her. He had ordered a simple glass of wine. Emma happened to look up and find Killian staring at them in utter horror, but when Killian noticed her looking back at him, he turned and walked away quickly.

That was when Clopin called out to him. “Monsieur Jones! Where are you going? Why don’t you come and have a drink with me?”

Killian looked like a deer in the headlights. “I— I have to go,” he said quickly.

Clopin all but darted after him out the door. “Please, don’t leave me! The sight of you brings a passionate fire unto my loins!”

The others snickered, almost spitting out their drinks as they heard this. Emma was the only one who wasn’t laughing.

* * *

When she returned home that night, the piano in tow, she pushed it back into the foyer and trudged up the stairs with a heavy sigh. “God, Regina, where _are_ you?” she rasped.

Later, as she fell asleep, she had a rather _interesting_ dream.

_There she was, sitting in an old-fashioned dressing room with none other than Regina. _

_“Regina,” she said in astonishment, “Where did you go?” _

_“That sorry son-of-a-bitch cut my spiritual tie to the world of the living,” Regina said bitterly as she took a long, slow drag of a cigarette. _

_“Hey, don’t you know those things will— never mind,” said Emma, “What do you mean? Who did? And how?” _

_“Killian,” Regina hissed, “That sorry bastard had this strange pair of scissors that severed my link. It was the only thing keeping me here. I thought the other end was attached to my piano, but I was wrong. It’s you, Emma. It’s always been you.”_

_ “Is there any way you can come back?” _

_“There’s just one, but I don’t know if it’ll work.”_

_ “What is it?” _

_“Go to the cemetery and find my grave,” said Regina, “Oh, and bring some holy water. I’m sure you can get some down at the Cathedral. Once you find my tombstone, pour the holy water on it and say my name three times, and I should be there.”_

_ “Why three times?” asked Emma. _

_“Because three is a very spiritual number.”_

_ “Okay,” said Emma, “but what happens if I can’t get any holy water?”_

_ “Then try crying. Your tears just might be enough.” _

_“Alright. I’ll do what I can. I love you, Regina.”_

_ The brunette smiled. “And I you, Chérie.”_


	11. Chapter 11

When Emma went to the Cathedral, Father Marco was visibly reluctant to bless her Star Wars thermos full of cold water, but he did so anyway, seeing just how desperate and hopeful she was. Once that was done, she drove down to the cemetery and searched thoroughly for Regina’s grave. At last, she found it.

_ Regina Mills-Colter— Beloved Wife— Incredible Pianist._ To the left of it was her husband’s grave. _Daniel Colter— Beloved Husband— PO2._ There were crosses carved into the tops of their tombstones.

“God, please let this work,” Emma whispered, “I know we aren’t exactly on speaking terms, but I could really use a hand here. I’ve seen things lately that I didn’t think possible. Suddenly your existence doesn’t seem so farfetched.”

Emma unscrewed the cap on the thermos and filled it with some of the holy water, which she then poured onto Regina’s tombstone. She bit her lip, waiting on bated breath for Regina’s ghost to appear. Ten seconds passed. Nothing. Twenty seconds. Nothing. Then came thirty. A bluish-white light began to appear out of thin air, and it morphed into the transparent form of Regina’s ghost.

Emma let out a heavy sigh of relief. “I was starting to think it wasn’t going to work.”

Regina just shook her head. “I’m a ghost, darlin’, not that _interweb_ of yours.”

“Internet,” Emma corrected.

Regina waved her hand dismissively. _“Tomayto, tomahto,”_ she said. Her expression became grim. “Emma, honey, I’ve got somethin’ to tell you.” She sighed. “I remember. All of it.”

Emma’s eyes were wide. “You mean you know who, um…?”

Regina just nodded, hanging her head in what looked like shame. “It was her,” she rasped.

“Her?”

_“Mal.” _

“What?! But I thought she loved you?!”

“Oh, she loved me alright,” Regina said with a scoff, “Danny found out about our affair, and I couldn’t bear to lose him, so I chose to end things with Mal. Let’s just say she didn’t like that. If she couldn’t have me, then nobody could.”

Emma was sure that if ghosts could cry, Regina most certainly would. “Christ,” she muttered, “Regina, that’s terrible. Did you see her? On the other side, I mean?”

“No. I was just in Limbo for a bit, but I imagine that bitch is burning in Hell. Lord knows she deserves it,” Regina said angrily, “I really could use a cigarette right about now.”

“Well, how about a kiss, instead?” Emma offered.

Regina’s face softened, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Smart thinkin’, sweet-pea.”

They shared a brief kiss, but it was enough to put them both at ease, if only for a moment. They stared into one another’s eyes with uncertainty. It was Regina who spoke first. “Emma?” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

Regina took hold of the blonde’s hand. “I have a plan, but there’s somethin’ else I need to tell ya first.”

* * *

That night, Samdi sat at a table closest to the stage as the Moonlight Blues got ready to play. Killian was among them, but he was standing as far away from Clopin as possible. Killian locked eyes with Samdi, only for a moment, but quickly looked away.

Jefferson came up to the mic and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. We have a very special guest this evening. Please welcome Mr. Baron Samdi,” he said, “Can someone get a spotlight on our guest, please? Thank you.” He smiled. “We’re dedicating this song to you, Mr. Samdi. Here’s _Onwards and Upwards,_ originally performed by the Steamboat Cabaret.”

The upbeat music began to play, and just when it looked like Jefferson was about to start singing, he stepped back, and a glowing, white figure rose up out of the floor. It was Regina. She stared Samdi dead in the face as she began to sing. The band kept in rhythm with her, save for Killian, who was petrified.

_“On and on, and on we go. Maybe fast, maybe slow. One likes to keep the flow, just like a song on the radio. Onwards and up we go, riding on the golden glow. Together, we’ll find a way, from Easter Island to Bombay!” _

Samdi looked as mortified as Killian. Still, he couldn’t look away from the spirit no matter how hard he tried. It was as though she had him in a trance.

_“Upwards and on and on. Hold tight, we’ll be strong. Onwards and upwards. Keep going, carry on! Upwards and on and on, by the grace of the sun. The rhythm flows. It’s one for all and all for one!” _

Suddenly, the floor began to shake, and the music was cut off abruptly as demonic laughter began to fill the room, terrifying the audience, and Samdi in particular. Horrific creatures with glowing, red eyes rose up out of the floor and surrounded the soulless man.

_ **“You sold us your soul, and now we have come for the rest. You cannot escape death, Baron Samdi. Your time has come! We have allowed the spirit of this woman to reside on Earth, and so we must bring you back in her place!” ** _

“What?!” he cried, standing up suddenly, “This wasn’t supposed to happen! We made a deal!”

_ **“And now we have made another.” ** _

The demons sank their talons into the man as they dragged him, screaming, into the fiery depths of Hell. He locked eyes with Regina one final time, and as he did, he saw the bittersweet smile that graced her ruby lips.

_ “Say hello to Mal for me,”_ she taunted.

“JONES!” Samdi screamed, “Why didn’t you cut the ribbon?!”

“I did as you asked of me!” Killian shouted, but it was too late. Samdi was gone, and so were the demons.

It looked as though nothing had ever happened. The rest of the audience was frozen, just staring ahead in horror, but none of them were aware of what was happening. It seemed that they, too, were in some kind of trance. Slowly, the band turned towards Killian with looks of utter hatred. Even Clopin was furious with him, as Regina had managed to lift the spell.

“You son-of-a-bitch,” Emma hissed, “You don’t deserve to be a part of this band! Get the hell off the stage!”

“Emma, I can explain—”

“Explain that you tried to get rid of Regina? Or worse yet, that you tried to make me fall in love with you?! You sick fucking creep! Those demons should’ve taken you with them! You can burn in Hell for all I care, you twisted motherfucker!”

Suddenly, Killian found himself having the ever-loving shit beat out of him with his own clarinet. He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but he was left bruised and bloody, and Jefferson grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“Killian, I swear to God, if you tell anyone about this, there will literally be Hell to pay. Do you understand?”

Killian nodded quickly. “Yes,” he rasped, “Please don’t kill me.”

“Oh, I won’t. That would be too easy,” Jefferson scoffed, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re no cousin of mine. Now get the fuck out of here, you piece of shit.”

Killian scurried away like the dirty rat that he was, and the others turned back to the hypnotized crowd. Regina waved her hand and wiped their memories of the past ten minutes. The music resumed as though nothing even remotely out of the ordinary had happened.

* * *

Later, after the audience was gone and the restaurant was closed, Emma approached Regina with a faint smile. “So,” she said, “how’d you get the ghost powers?”

“I suppose I’ve had them all along,” said Regina. She winked (or at least, _attempted_ to). “I just couldn’t remember.”


	12. Chapter 12

Time went on, and things were going rather smoothly, considering the tension from before. One night, as she came home from a trip to the bar with Jefferson and the others, Emma walked in through the front door, expecting Regina to be waiting there for her, but she found the place empty. She couldn’t help but frown in confusion.

“Regina? Baby, where are you?”

She gasped as she suddenly began to float up off the ground, but then she realized what was going on, and she grinned. She should have known. She’d been begging Regina to do this for weeks. It seemed all her pleading had finally pulled through.

The old chair in the corner began to rock on its own, and suddenly, music was blaring all through the house. Emma started dancing in the air and found herself singing, not in her own voice, but in Harry Belafonte’s.

_“Shake, shake, shake, Senora! Shake your body line! Shake, shake, shake, Senora! Shake it all the time! Work, work, work, Senora! Work your body line! Work, work, work, Senora! Work it all the time!” _

Regina’s spirit manifested upon the staircase, smiling brightly and dancing alongside the grinning demons.

_“My girl’s name is Senora! I tell you friends, I adore her! And when she dances, oh brother! She’s a hurricane in all kinds of weather! Jump in the line, rock your body in time! Okay, I believe you! Jump in the line, rock your body in time! Okay, I believe you! Jump in the line, rock your body in time! Okay, I believe you! Jump in the line, rock your body in time! Whoa!” _

As Emma danced, an ethereal spotlight shone down on her out of nowhere, but she didn’t care. She was having far too much fun.

_“You can talk about cha-cha, tango, waltz, or the rumba! Senora’s dance has no title! You jump in the saddle, hold onto the bridle! Jump in the line, rock your body in time! Okay, I believe you! Jump in the line, rock your body in time! Rock your body, child! Jump in the line, rock your body in time!” _

Regina had decided to stick around, and Emma had never been more grateful for anything in her life.

* * *

Later, as Emma was lying in bed, just starting to drift off to sleep, she felt Regina’s spectral fingers lightly touching her chest, feeling her heartbeat. Her heart swelled when the brunette’s lips met her cheek.

“Emma?” Regina asked softly.

“Hm?”

“I spoke to Daniel. He said he thinks we’re a good match, and he gave us his blessing.”

Emma smiled. “I’m happy to hear it. Will you thank him for me?”

“I’m sure he already knows,” the brunette murmured.

“What about Mal and Samdi? Will you ever get to confront them?”

“I don’t think I need to,” said Regina, “They’re getting exactly what they deserve.”

“And Gold?” asked Emma.

“He was a strange one, for sure, but he’s someplace else,” Regina explained. She kissed Emma on the lips this time. _“Bonne nuit, mon amour.”_

* * *

One warm afternoon, Emma was out planting flowers in the garden when she heard a voice calling to her from the sidewalk.

_“Hello, Miss? Are you Emma Swan?” _

She turned to find a young man standing there with a hopeful look in his eyes. She set down her tools and took off her gloves before approaching the fence.

“That’s right,” she said, “What can I do for you?”

“Um, hello. I, uh, recently did some digging into my family history and found out that my great-grandparents once lived here. I don’t want to impose or anything, but I was wondering if I could take a look around? It would mean a lot to me.”

Emma couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah,” she said, “That’d be perfectly fine. What was your name?”

“Oh, it’s Henry,” said the man, “Henry Colter.”

Emma’s smile just got bigger. “Come on in, Henry. I’m sure you’ll find the place _very_ interesting.”

Henry smiled as Emma let him through the gate. “It’s beautiful,” he said.

“Just wait ‘til you see the inside,” said Emma.

As Henry walked up towards the front door, Emma happened to look up and see Regina in the upstairs window, smiling down at her. She grinned and gave the brunette a wink and a nod. Just as she went to close the door, the old piano began to play on its own. Regina certainly had some explaining to do.


End file.
